Those Eyes
by quesse.beryl
Summary: BuffyAngel wonderfulness. Not gushy, not overly romantic, but just a charming little ditty with a budding plot. Try it out, see how you like. RR if you're really nice :
1. Chapter 1

Ok, this is what i spit out so far, i dont know where it came from (id like to say my unsurpased genius) but here it is, im still working on it, so there will probably be an actual plot coming soon

this is sortof an intro so dont judge too harshly, but tell me what you think

obviously, its about Buffy and Angel, and well...here goes

hope you like

disclaimer: i dont own any of the buffy characters, and im not profiting from this (sadly)

* * *

It brought communication to a whole new level. It surprised her, sometimes, at how little it took for them to get the point across. It almost seemed like mind reading to others, and occassionally she thought it could be possible.

So much was unspoken body language; words just ended up being cumbersome or awkward. A look, a slight movement, was so much more effective, especially when they both possessed fine-tuned abilities of detection which were never 'turned off.' It was a part of both of them, something neither could escape: who they were. A vampire, and a slayer.

The fates mocked them ceaselessly with the attraction that existed between them. The only small relief was that society had no idea of their true identities. To the majority of the world, they were simply a couple, a reserved, sometimes seemingly strange couple, but to the world they appeared…normal.

To each other, they were everything. An unexpected union, but one that would not be denied. Despite the cruel curse, there was nothing that separated the two. The bond went deeper than existence, down into the core of their being, intertwining their lives into one beautiful, yet dangerous entity.

No matter the circumstances, no matter than distance between them, physical or imagined, nothing could separate their souls. He could move away, maybe it was for the better, but he would always love her. He would love her now, he would love her until the day she inevitably passed out of this world, and as he lingered here, he would love her still. If that was a curse, he gladly accepted it.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here's another chapter, long time in coming I know, but I got very limited feedback and was slow in getting to it. I appreciate R&R's!! Don't be afraid to tell me that I'm amazing... ;-) Really, I'm very humble...very..very humble...I do thank you all who read my work, I 'm trying!

Now, without further blabbering on my part: Chapter Deux

* * *

This night, like so many others, was filled with turmoil. Yet to them both it was "just another day at work."

To such a spectacular team, the usual vamps were just practice, useful only for keeping them on their game. Their minds thought as one, allowing them to follow each other's actions flawlessly, and without conscious effort. A turn, a blow, a leap, all choreographed in some eerie dance; yet, these partners never considered a step. Moving together in complete synchronization, they made quick work of the straggling nest.

He turned to her, a slight smile teasing his lips, something not often seen, reserved only for her. His gruff Angel exterior melted in her presence. Again, no words were spoken, her cockiness radiated like an aura and the smirk that she taunted him with revealed all that was necessary.

The quick kills were almost playful for her, an opportunity for flair. Make no mistake, however; this pair was no less deadly with 'small stuff' than when dealing with Giles' "oh-my-god-the-world-is-ending" situations.

Neither panting, ease of movement never lost, they came together and walked to nowhere in particular. The presence of the other was the greatest comfort and companionship that could be felt by anyone on such a bitterly cold night.

For Sunnydale, cold was uncommon. California weather came with a few oddities, however. This night was one of them.

He put his arm around her, though he had no heat to offer. The gesture was appreciated and returned in kind, her grip coming across his middle. It felt like they were the sole two people on the planet this night, no one else mattered. No one could see them, or had reason to. This night was for them alone.

Their destination, agreed upon unanimously and without counsel, soon approached. The benefits of going to Angel's residence were many. They wouldn't disturb Buffy's mother, which was a conflict better avoided, and it was quiet, private. The later reasons were the most appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's my forgotten disclaimer: I own none of these characters and no, I am not profiting from this...

* * *

The first words of the night, "What do you want to do?" Her witty response, "Oh, I dunno…Got any boardgames? Scrabble? I'm sure a round of checkers would be oh so fun!" His only reaction was a tight-lipped smile, the one that said, "Yeah, yeah, ha, ha." If sarcasm could be translated into an expression, that smile would be it, she'd always thought.

"Where are the bats? We should invite them to join us."

"Oh, I think just the two of us should be enough to be entertaining."

Damn. Why'd he have to use the sexy voice? She swore he didn't even know he was using it; it was just Angel.

A coy smile came to her lips. She couldn't help it. It was those eyes. They went down to her soul, but it wasn't the least bit unnerving. Ok, well, a little, but in a good way. Sometimes, now for instance, it gave her shivers, which she embarrassingly tried to hide. It was useless; he knew he'd turned her on.

His graceful walk took him to her. Reaching out, he took her hand. He absently stared at her knuckles for a moment, thumb rubbing over them tenderly.

"Do I need to leave you and my hand alone for a minute? Do you need some time to yourselves?"

"What? I can't admire a perfect hand? So small, yet so powerful. I bet those nails give an added kick, don't they? Ouch!"

"Don't be so sarcastic, _darling_. If you get my hand, then I get your hair."

She hated to admit it, but his hair was one of his best attributes. She _loved_ running her fingers through it. It was so hard to get an opportunity to, though. She had to improvise whenever she could.

Dang it, why was she so short!? It was really a bother sometimes. Like now…

Her small, frustrated sigh caught his ears. It was that cute little sigh that she never thought she was making. He slowly raised onto his tiptoes, becoming slightly out of reach of her stroking fingers.

Finally, she caught on. "Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you yet." The predictable pouty face revealed itself. She even crossed her arms, practically puppy-dogging him.

It was too much.

He scooped her up into his arms, producing a startled squeak as she flung her arms around his shoulders. Soon his long strides carried them to his bed, the only sort of furniture he had for sitting purposes; he didn't have company very often.

Now seated with Buffy on his lap, he looked into her eyes. "There. Better?"

Her gaze drifted from his face, wandering across the room. "I guess it'll haaave to do."

It had worked. That glowing smile was again on her face, which was staring contentedly into his eyes. Her fingers, meanwhile, resumed their work of tracing the contours of his head as she took in his scent.

You wouldn't think that vampires had a smell, or if they did, it would be a rotting, dead, decidedly icky smell, but his was wonderful. It was a comfort in and of itself, just being able to smell him. To be near him. It always made her feel so…whole. As if she had no pressing matters in the world, mainly that the world didn't need her at that moment. She could forget her duties, her problems, and just lose herself in his gorgeous brown eyes.

Eyes that had seen horrors she couldn't even dream of, had committed some of those horrors. Those eyes had held heartache, hunger, fear, desperation. He had been through so much during those long years of having a soul.

But when he looked at her, all she saw was love.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful reviews! I appreciate it so much!!!

Here's another chapter for you; I realize that I don't update often enough, but duty (school) calls.

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Buffy or Angel...

Enjoy!

* * *

"So what now? You've brought me to your lair, what are you gonna do to me, oh scary Angel man?" She added a quiver to her voice and looked up at him through her blond locks, batting her eyelashes in a fearful manner. To Angel, she looked perfectly ridiculous. Her playfulness was contagious, however, and he soon found himself breaking out of his usual brooding look and gracing her with a true smile.

As it inevitably always seemed to happen, they unconsciously drew closer. His hand reached up to cradle her face, and he just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. He knew, one of the only people to truly understand, exactly what the life of a Slayer was like, how impossibly difficult it was for these girls to mature so quickly. Sometimes, he wished he could just have somehow spared her from this life. Restore her innocence. She tried to keep up appearances, being overly perky and upbeat, but he knew deep down she felt alone: the burden of her responsibility.

There was only one Slayer.

As he gazed into her beautiful blue eyes, he felt his passion for her awaken. He gently stroked his fingers through her hair. She sat there, completely unreadable. He could almost feel her withdrawing into herself.

Before she could retreat any further, he cautiously dipped his head to hers, offering his lips for her pain.

Her eyes left his, glancing downward, her signal of uncertainty. He let his forehead rest on hers, the slight contact melting through her defenses, bringing her emotions to the surface.

Patience he had in spades; being alive this long had taught him many things. Angel knew how to wait.

His offering was not in vain, however. Her breath quickened slightly, hitching occasionally in her throat. Finally, his cue, the slightest of movements, her chin tilting upwards, lips parted.

She didn't want to admit she needed reassurance. But God how that man could read her like a book. He blatantly bared his soul for her, his openness revealed willingly. He was her rock; he kept her grounded to this reality when it seemed that sometimes she was slipping away. She needed him, that she realized, but she didn't want to admit it. To burden him with her problems.

She was the Slayer, she took care of herself. But when he _knew_ how much she needed him, and used that knowledge to try to help her, it almost broke her heart with love. How could someone who had experienced so many evils, in this world and in others, be called upon to help her, an awkward teenager? Mostly, she didn't feel she deserved his attentions. It was these emotions that caused her to avert her eyes from his.

When his forehead touched hers, however, she couldn't hold back any longer. Call her weak, but she needed this. This release. It was a Buffy number one policy to lock up any and all emotions so that they couldn't interfere with her lifestyle. She couldn't afford to put peoples' lives in danger because she was feeling bad.

She felt the weight of her responsibilities crushing down upon her. How did he do this to her? How did he break through her barriers to reveal her true feelings? He called forth everything she had tried so desperately to keep buried.

They kissed gently, then passionately, until she couldn't breathe anymore for the tears. Then, he simply held her against him, cradling her in his warm embrace, and waited out the storm.

It was all quiet; silent tears.

Through it all, he remained steady, a source of strength for her to draw from. Slowly, gently, the tears stopped. Her breathing slowed, and she contentedly allowed herself to be held, shielded away from the world.

He knew how tired she was, and he knew how this would end.

Sure enough, as the soft crying ceased, her breathing slowed and she lay in his arms. There was no awkward realization or embarrassed moment of separation; she didn't push away from him, hurriedly wiping away errant teardrops. She finally gave in, accepted her pain, putting it away again to worry about another day.

It was enough that he was here, that he could help her. It hurt him so much to watch her day after day, trying to be the strong one, trying to carry everything herself.

Now, as predicted, she had fallen into a peaceful sleep. She always seemed to sleep the best at his place, distancing herself from her troubles. She felt safer, protected.

Angel carefully leaned back, settling them both comfortably on the bed. Being a creature of the night himself, he didn't feel much like sleeping, so he sat and listened to the slow rhythm of her breathing, awaiting the morning.

He knew that when the sun rose, this would all be forgotten; they would go back to their routines and never speak of it.

Undeniably, this situation would repeat at some point. And when it did, he'd still be there for her.

Ready to help her fight again.

* * *

I think I've got a couple more chapters in me, if you'd all like to hear them. Let me know what you thought, a little word goes a long way!

:-)


	5. Chapter 5

_First of all, I must apologize profusely for the delay on this chapter. Because I feel so badly, I've uploaded TWO, yes two, chapters for your enjoyment. Again, I am SOOOO sorry that I haven't updated, but school, what can I say? School happens. And with finals coming up, like now, it gets busy. But anyways, here you are. And thank you for all who reviewed, I truly do appreciate it._

* * *

Morning seemed to crawl across the world, the soft rays of the sun slowly softening the harsh dark of night. Naturally, direct light could not penetrate Angel's fortified dwelling, but the muted glow reached through the curtains, slowly making its way across the bed to the figure comfortably nestled in its depths.

As he stood watching her, the light finally played over her angelic features, revealing the innocence of her youth. She was so beautiful when she slept, Angel thought.

She was beautiful when she fought, she was beautiful when she was angry, and she was still beautiful after a night of slaying and a short sleep and an untamed mass of unruly hair obscuring her relaxed face. He grinned at that; he could predict with a fair amount of accuracy what her reaction would be upon waking.

Her hand would come up to stifle her yawn, then travel upwards to assess the damage her hair had acquired overnight. Then, she'd really wake up, a faint aura of horror playing across her face as she realized the extent of her bad-hair-day.

As if on cue, the sun's soft rays tickled her eyes open, and she automatically moved her hand to rub the sleep from them. In complete peacefulness, Angel watched the small drama of her awakening. His grin reappeared on witnessing her horrified expression.

Completely at ease, Buffy slowly realized where she was and paused a moment before sensing Angel's presence. She turned her head, picking out his location immediately, despite the shadows in which he cloaked himself.

A true smile graced her lips in response to his breaking of the silence with two softly murmured words, "Good morning."

"Good morning yourself."

"Hungry?"

"Not yet, but I will be. My stomach still hasn't woken up."

It brought her the greatest comfort, waking to her protector's unshakable presence. She sat back, snuggling deeper into the blankets, trying to soak the last warmth from them.

As she settled back, it occurred to him that she wouldn't be leaving the bed for a while yet. It would require more than simple conversation to lure Buffy from the comfort of the blankets. Time to try tactic number two: appeal to her nose. He brought out the little-used pan and began scrambling some eggs, adding a couple strips of bacon to the mix. Soon, the aroma was filling the room, drawing Buffy's head back up from the pillow. He glanced over to see a slow smile creeping across her face, his finely tuned ears catching the low moan of hunger escaping her lips.

"Now are you hungry?"

She grinned sheepishly, "Maybe just a little."

She started to pull the covers off her shoulders, but stopped mid-motion. "Ohh. Too cold. I like it better here." Squirming back under, she blinked innocently at him. Her version of playing hard-to-get.

He could work with that. "Well, if you're not going to eat it, and I'm definitely not going to eat it, then I guess it'll just have to go to waste….into the garbage."

She replied teasingly, "You wouldn't."

But as the pan began to tip precariously towards the rim of the garbage can, she suddenly gave a desperate yelp and flew from her warm sanctuary, scurrying across the kitchen.

Mission accomplished, Angel's victorious smile stopped Buffy in her tracks. "Well, now that was decidedly evil of you." Her little humph of frustration gained her a steaming plate of breakfast, soon accompanied by a glass of orange juice and a large portion of tall, dark, and handsome seated across from her. Not feeling so badly anymore, she sat, and ate. After a moment of relaxed silence, she picked up the conversation again.

"Well, it's Saturday, and I don't have much to do today. I'm sure Giles could come up with some exciting training exercise, or we could spend an enlightening day full of research, but somehow, that just doesn't seem like fun to me." She made a face, "Actually, I've got a _load_ of homework piled up. This week's been busy with vamp activity, and I sorta put everything off." Her face scrunched up even farther, "Ick." When Angel remained silent, she glanced up into his face, unreadable as usual. "I guess, if you don't mind, I'll just run home…and…get it. I should get some clean clothes, too."

"Sure. I'll be here."

Still a little put off by his silent treatment—he seemed so far away—Buffy thanked him for breakfast, pulled on her shoes, and headed out the door. She hoped he'd be less broody when she got back.

* * *

_Sorry it was so short, but there's more in the next chapter, one which I think you'll like. I thought their playfulness was kinda cute, what about you?_

_Throw me a line_


	6. Chapter 6

_As promised, here's part deux. I'm sorry, but I never could get over that scene. I had to rehash it, just a little. Hope you like!_

* * *

The house was silent when Buffy returned, bulging backpack in tow. It had been relatively easy to sneak past her mother, grab her stuff and boogie. She wasn't completely heartless, though; she'd left a note informing said mother of her safety, yada yada, so she wouldn't worry _quite_ so much.

When she thought about it, she actually got more homework done at Angel's than any other place, even in the library under Giles' watchful eye. (no pun intended) Her focus was so much better there; it probably was the peaceful atmosphere. Quiet and welcoming.

Quietly closing the door behind her, Buffy tuned her senses, trying to discover Angel's whereabouts. Nothing. Absently dropping her duffle by the table, she slowly ventured down the hall, towards the only other room in the place.

She'd always wondered about that room. Very sparse, it contained only trivial things, like knickknacks he'd picked up in god-knows-where. She wondered how many times he'd traveled the globe.

That room had always felt peaceful, though, that she remembered. She'd never really had cause to go there, but she knew Angel kept his most prized possessions there: his arsenal. The walls were covered in axes, swords, and random weapons, collected during his travels. A sturdy cabinet stood in the corner, holding the smaller articles. Knives and things. He really had quite a collection; Giles's weapons locker was nothing in comparison.

Finally arriving at the doorway, she realized how soundless she had unconsciously made her approach. Habit, she thought. What she saw when she looked in, though, left her stunned. Angel, aka Mr.Enigma, was in some sort of voodoo trance, sweeping the air in random patterns with his hands, eyes closed, looking all the world for a certified wacko.

For the longest time, she simply stood there, just staring at him.

Yet, the longer she watched, the more she came to realize how not-random this was. It was some sort of ritual, she thought, but it looked so…_relaxing_. The motions were simple, and, actually, if she looked close enough, it appeared as almost a sort of battle, decelerated impossibly slow.

Having as much as her curiosity could handle, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She _had_ to know. "What are you doing?"

Her voice jumped him from his reverie, and she got that slight pleasure from getting past his defenses; it was nice to know she still had the edge on him. He spun about, eyes wide, then suddenly embarrassed. "Oh. Buffy. I didn't hear you...come in," he trailed off.

His feet shifted awkwardly, contrasting with his previous grace.

Slower this time, she repeated, "What are you doing?"

"Oh. That." He made vague gestures with his hands, illuminating nothing. "It's called tai chi. It helps me focus; quite relaxing actually." That nervousness still pervaded his movements, and then she realized, he was _afraid_ she'd think it was _stupid_.

She almost laughed out loud. For someone a couple hundred years old, he sure acted like he was twelve sometimes. Softening her stance, she tried to make eye contact. "Angel. It's beautiful."

Somehow, it called out to her, the flowing movements, beckoned to her inner-warrior, the part of her that was ingrained down to her soul. Those three words captured his attention, and his eyes met hers. Almost sheepishly, he ventured, "I could teach you, if you wanted."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

With those words, all the tension seemed to evaporate out of the room. Suddenly, Angel was back in harmony, his soft voice controlling her motions, explaining the intricacies of each step, the theory behind each movement. They were so in-synch with each other, even before the exercise, that she was able to pick up on his shifting muscles as one movement blended into the next.

After a short amount of time, they were seamlessly mirroring each other's turns, superbly balanced, each motion focused and precise. It was a moment of true harmony as their two bodies connected on another level. Minutes turned to hours, and soon, the two found themselves covered in a sweat, but breathing evenly, and fully refreshed.

Buffy spoke first. "That was wonderful." No other words were necessary as they locked eyes; all communication seemed to be telepathic at that point, his single nod speaking volumes.

"Mind if I shower first? I guess it's a good thing I skipped that part when I was home."

"Sure. Towels are in the cabinet by the sink. Leave me some hot water, or no more lessons."

"No more lessons? What more is there? I thought that was it."

"It gets much deeper than that, Buffy. That was form one. Just wait till you get a sword in your hand, then it gets interesting."

Shaking her head in dazed amusement, her response, "Huh. The way we get our kicks, Angel. Sometimes it really amazes me," elicited a low chuckle from her counterpart.

"The shower it is then." She muttered, "It's about time I did something about this hair."

Angel's rare laugh echoed, following her down the hall.

* * *

_Yes, I know, still pretty short, but I hope you enjoyed it._

_I'm a little saddened by how few reviews this story has gotten. I'm just looking out for the story's well-being, of course. Really, though, I'm curious to know what you guys think of this._

_Just let me know whatcha think._

_And thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

The soft sounds of Buffy opening the bathroom door drifted to Angel's attentive ear. His gaze tracked over to the form of Buffy, partially obscured by the billowing steam accompanying her exit, clad in towel and with dripping locks. And still the most beautiful being he had ever beheld. Modesty dropped his eyes to the ground in front of him.

A slight smile tugged at Buffy's lips as she caught the downward sweep of his eyes. A more chivalrous man she had never met, and his many layers never ceased to amaze her. "It's all yours," in a coy, low voice locked his eyes to hers once more. Sometimes, it was so easy to play him, she thought. It's time he wasn't quite so uptight. She swore that one day she'd succeed in at least temporarily dispelling his classic brooding look. Quite a challenge, but one she enjoyed immensely. Besides, after all they'd been through together, the sight of her in a towel was nothing.

Realizing this, Angel's graceful, fluid movements carried him out of his chair and intimately close to her, their gazes never parting. His head dipped down to drink up her eyes as his hand gingerly tipped her chin towards his. In a quiet gesture, their foreheads met in delicate contact, the sensation creating an essence of oneness and security. The peace of that moment transcended the chaos and strife that seemed to continuously swirl through their convoluted lives.

In that moment, the world lifted its considerable weight from her shoulders, allowing her the much-needed room to simply breathe. A contented sigh escaped her lips. She let herself get swept up in that moment, taking in everything. The smell of the Angel's shampoo, which when she used it made her feel that tiny bit closer to him; the soft feel of his skin against hers, his gentle hands caressing her face, tracing slight contours absentmindedly. The sound of nothing. Sweet silence interrupted only by the near-imperceptible hush of her own breathing.

Drawing back, so reluctantly, her soft gaze met his once again, making a palpable connection that, once broken by her rapid blink, decidedly brought them both back to reality. The timidity that was ingrained deeply in the heart of Angel called forth his hesitant speech, "Well, I guess….I should go….take that shower…now."

And just like that, there went the moment. There should be a 'poof' right now, Buffy thought. Space opened up between them and he was past her before she could even mutter a reply. Almost wanting to smack her forehead in exasperation, Buffy quickly changed, sat on the couch, and proceeded to attempt her homework without thinking about Angel being in the shower. She was marginally successful.

When he finally emerged with scruffy hair and, unlike her previous entrance, fully clothed, she couldn't help the slight red tinge that crept, despite her best efforts, up her neck. Quickly, she focused back on the history book resting in her lap. "I managed to get through a whole chapter, which is good, but not so good considering I have four more to make up. I guess being a Slayer is a little more extracurricular than average this week."

Her natural ability to infuse levity into any situation came through in this instance as well. With reassured ease, Angel came and sat next to her, glancing down at the textbook. "You know," he said, "I might know a thing or two about history."

Quick, enthusiastic smiles were shared and the homework commenced in earnest.

_I'm sorry that was so short guys, I really have no excuses except I'll try to post again soon._


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